


Emma Swan's Guide To Getting Over Your (Evil) Ex

by onceuponatimetime



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Cameos, Dramedy, F/F, Friendship, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Magic-Users, Romance, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6793027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponatimetime/pseuds/onceuponatimetime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma & Regina, both 18, hook up at their boarding school for magic. Emma wants a relationship but Regina favors casual flings. Emma pens a guide on how to get over an ex to deal with heartache, school, magic and a new foe. But, it'll take their friends Snow, Mulan, Tinkerbell, Ruby, Lily, Maleficent and others to help Emma & Regina reach their happy ending. AU Swan Queen endgame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step 1: Recognize That You Might Actually Need Help

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This in an AU, non-canon, High School Angst Romance Swan Queen story written in 4th wall breaking style (Emma talks directly to you). Magic with a modern setting. Swan Queen is endgame but other Swan and Queen pairings exist. Also includes Sleeping Warrior, Snowing, and Ruby Slippers. Trigger warnings for mentions of: panic attacks, magical cutting, abuse, drug & alcohol use. Rated Mature 18+ for coarse language, sex, and triggers.
> 
> Please anticipate story updates every Sunday (sometimes much sooner or a bit later). No copyright infringement intended. For entertainment purposes only. I welcome all comments, reviews, and thoughts. Talk to me! Thanks for reading!

####  **

Step 1. Recognize That You Might Actually Need Help

**

My name is Emma Swan. 

I'm eighteen years old.

I'm good at shooting magic sparks out my hands.

_And I'm hopelessly in love._

Her name is Regina Mills.

She's eighteen years old.

She's an expert at flinging fireballs from her hands.

_And she can go fuck herself._

The falling _hopelessly in love_ with Regina Mills circus act of my life happened during what was shaping up to be a _craptastic_ year as a senior at Storybrooke Magic Academy and Institute in Maine USA. SMAI is an all girls pre-kindergarten thru first year of college boarding school in a town with actual magic called Storybrooke that I attend through academic sponsorship. Not that some of those facts weren't implied by the school's name.

Sorry, but I have the tendency to over-explain things.

Unfortunately, this is sometimes accomplished with profanity.

I don't envision myself mellowing out soon.

The truth sets you free.

So, in the spirit of speaking the truth about my Regina situation - and to avoid exposing all my mental issues to our ' _not judging you but clearly judging you_ ' Headmistress Reul Ghorm - the only woman in existence puritanical enough to wear an ankle-length blue dress with a perpetual bitch-face every single day of her mundane and insignificant life, as if the only two things she allows near her body are especially sour lemons and battery-operated veiny dildos - some things should be brutally divulged to ensure life lessons stick to your brain.

Please observe this eye-roll inducing drivel I heard from Reul eight weeks ago:

_"We're not singling you out as a punishment, Emma," Reul said, shifting in her high-back leather chair, summoning a smile so fake I wasn't sure if she was modeling outfits in a clothing store window or suffering from a stroke, "Mr. Gold entrusted this independent study assignment to you for a reason. You just need to believe in yourself."_

_No, I needed to be anywhere but sitting in front of Reul, fidgeting in a sickeningly bright danger-cone orange plastic chair. A chair, mind you, that caused more discomfort along the muscles of my lower back than seeing Reul's sourpuss face did to my entire mind at 7 am on a Monday, which it was._

_Both circumstances royally sucked._

_Another thing that royally sucked? A privileged headmistress at one of the best schools for magic in one of the wealthiest magic towns in the world didn't have real problems outside of where to pigeonhole non-normative students like me. She'd never understand how hard it was to be accepted in our society - she always had a place where she belonged or could make herself belong. She always had authority. Power over her own destiny._

_She didn't actually care that her decisions meant I would never belong anywhere. Never have a home. Never have a family._

_That I was alone._

_But, here's what made me truly livid at that moment: I was forced to take a senior seminar in Advanced Principles of Dark Magic & Arcana without having taken any of the prerequisite classes like Core Dark Magic and I knew only one person was to blame for my prison sentence._

_The one person I loved most in all the universe._

_Regina Mills._

_The reason I'd spend an entire year-my senior year of high school!-dealing with that odious prick Mr. Gold. The reason I had to look Reul in her cold brown eyes as she sat surrounded by an endless sea of rule books and student files and sentenced me to a horrid social death. The reason why I'd never be able to 'get by' because people would always know what I was and never want to know who I was._

_Regina Mills._

_"I don't want anyone to know have it," I explained in a voice conveying all the worry and fear and regret able to be summoned into the human soul, my brow furrowing deep into my face, "And I don't want to take Mr. Gold's class."_

_The books on Reul's shelves rattled._

_I knew it was my dark magic._

_She knew it too._

_My dark magic always desired destruction._

_I knew instantly what was coming next: My Change._

_I saw it in Reul's eyes first, the mix of disapproval and repulsion shimmering to a boil behind russet irises. In the way her hands quickly steepled in front of her lips and she became eerily unreadable._

_My hands surged with a painful, contracting heat that increased in temperature and intensity as it snaked through my veins. Boiled my blood. Choked my breaths. My temples throbbed from a fluctuation in the magical pressure of the heated blood cocooning my brain, pressing against my skull, inflaming the irises of my eyes. Light crackled at my fingertips; winding out of my hands, coiling in the air like invisible tentacles of energy waving, probing, seeking Reul, its target, its latest sustenance._

_A chorus of demonic voices taunting me to maim._

_To take aim with the birch wood silver tipped wand in my right hand._

_I could feel my darkness crashing against the protection wards Reul erected in her office. The ones that blanketed the entire campus. It didn't matter. My energy would find a way to break the weaker wards. I was certain. Because it did once before during a time I want to forget._

_I had to corral my power; stave off my Change._

_Not become the evil I feared. The evil that was the real me. Not immolate and take Reul and the Student Services building up in roaring flames with me._

_Reul's renowned pixie dust fueled magic isn't a match against pure dark magic. I don't have a pure form; it's corrupted nonetheless. But, she didn't signal for any guard staff. It perplexed me; she wasn't afraid for herself._

_Although I was seized with the pain and near blindness from oncoming my Change, I registered that Reul's eyes had glossed over. Milky white and swollen. As her eyelids blinked frantically, she chanted in an ancient and extinct dialect of Elvish-some of the words familiar to me only because I've heard them before. Whispered solemnly by Regina._

_I could feel Reul reaching out to me; her magic calling to me like a siren, urging me to sail toward a plane of pure light. Use the light magic within me to make the itching and the headaches and the burning and the voices inside me subside and disappear._

_The irony: the clamoring voices in my head threatening to incite violence from within me and lunge at Reul at that moment were all drowned out by my memory of Regina's sultry voice. Insistent. Strong. Loving. Soothing. A lighthouse built on solid ground near dark and tempestuous seas. Guiding my ship home. Guiding me to Regina._

_It also occurred to me that, despite not being a powerful Sorceress, a Shapeshifter or a Dark One, Reul had risen through the ranks of academia to lord over SMAI's students because she could do something terrifyingly amazing: Reach your essence and control it._

_Something only Regina was able to do to me. Reul came close enough on her own volition, but I must want her to succeed for it to work completely._

_I didn't._

_But I also didn't want to prove society right about the real me. The dark me._

_I took a deep breath through my mouth, let the room's air cool my burning tonsils and tumble down my throat to dim the fires within my body. I could have avoided all of this if I wore gloves like Regina suggested. Wore the red leather ones she gave me because they matched my favorite jacket. "Swan, don't be an idiot. Wear the gloves."_

_I had my reasons to forgo wearing them. Ones only people like me understood. Easiest to explain: Gloves kept dark magic at bay long enough for countermeasures like Reul's to take effective shape, but dark magic constantly fighting against barriers made it stronger. Turned it into a seasoned military tactician. Eventually, I would be… invincible?_

_Alone._

_Dead._

_When I finally broke through the trance, I was shocked to discover Reul appeared and acted normally. Shuffled papers on her desk. As if nothing magical or spiritual had transpired between us. Her mouth a thin line, Reul wrote something down feverishly on a vellum paper sheet resting on the top of her shuffled paper stack with a blue quill fashioned to look like a winged fairy. She shot me a calm look. I became unwittingly cowed by her eyes, a marionette subject to her whims._

_The rattling ceased._

_I felt gross. Wanted to throw up. Cleanse myself in holy water or something. Anything._

_My eyes burned. Heavy and difficult to keep open. I managed to focus on a small potted bonsai plant perched on her office window sill. Its manicured branches tempting me to curl them around her neck… and it fucking pissed me off that neither of us addressed the proverbial big-eared African elephant shitting bricks in the room._

_Reul noticed my anger and unease and simply plowed through her lecture._

_"It's not quite that simple," that emotionless Stepford Wife smile of hers resurfaced across her lips, settling on her face like a conquering conquistador, "I've personally reviewed your results from your recent adjusted MAP test and determined this is the best choice available to you."_

_She magnanimously gave me a moment to allow her words to settle in my mind. Take root in the black soil there. Grow within the residual anger that lingered and nourished me._

_Why was I allowed to remain at her school?_

_Didn't what just happened mean I should be locked up?_

_Dissected?_

_What had she really managed to do to me?_

_It was more than control me._

_I felt my body and mind were there in her office but also not there._

_Experiencing a horrid time like this one was exactly why I intentionally bombed parts of the Magical Aptitude Test (MAP) to hide my abilities when I took it my junior year at my old school, East Storybrooke High. I kept my wild dark magic abilities a secret for 18 years even though tanking the test meant losing a full-ride college scholarship and a high paying job thereafter._

_Dark magic made you a persona non grata, unwanted and unlovable. People in Storybrooke treated you like a social pariah - like dirt - when you have dark magic and come from innercity Storybrooke like me. Your school headmistress had to transform into a literal succubus to drain the edge off your powers. Make you socially tolerable. Keep you in line. Turn you into a caged animal. The MAP test was designed to find dark magic mages and weed them out for a culling. I lied to the world as a matter of self-preservation._

_I hated how Reul made me feel… less like myself. Docile and confused._

_I never even told my best friend at East Storybrooke High, Lily, who I always felt most comfortable being around, sometimes even more than Regina - we grew up in the same orphanage and shared the same unfortunate life experiences - because I never wanted Lily to look at me the way Reul did. I wouldn't be able to survive that look dawning across Lily's face, even for a second._

_Lily's a Shapeshifter, their lives are government regulated, but even they are treated better than… potential Dark Ones. You are monitored by Storybrooke's local branch of the Department of Magic Safety Enforcement when you possess even an inkling of dark energy (everyone working there is Massengill douchey, chiefly its director, Sidney Glass)._

_If I wouldn't tell the one person who has known and loved me my entire life that I had dark magic inside me, then, trust me, telling Regina was the most defining moment of my entire life._

_Until she told our school officials. Then that moment became the pinnacle of my life's experiences. A colossally shitty one._

_So fuck Regina._

_And no goddamn thanks to everything Reul had to offer._

_"You mean it's the only choice available to me," I leveled at her, not deigning to hide my disappointment and disgust. I absentmindedly began scraping my wand down the length of my left forearm, leaving dry scratch marks in its wake._

_Why can't adults just tell the damn truth? 'Emma, you're a caged animal soon to be sent to the slaughter house.' How hard was that to say?_

_Reul took note of what my wand hand was doing, her eyes tracing every movement, and she jotted something down on vellum paper again. I immediately stopped scratching my arm. No way was I explaining that habit to her or giving her the satisfaction of having yet another reason to "reach me" with her pixie power again._

_Most times I don't realize I'm doing the scratching. Sometimes it leaves calligraphic etchings on my arms that take a considerable amount of light magic to heal. Or Regina's touch. The etchings heal instantly underneath Regina's hands._

_Reul narrowed her eyes. "The fact that you don't want to do the seminar is immaterial. The fact that you must have proper instruction for your own sake as well as for the safety and benefit of our society is paramount. Many of us in the private school sector have long suspected that pre-MAP and MAP tests given at your old school were horrendously fallible due to administrative fraud. And, unlike your old school, we want you to be successful, Emma."_

_"How wonderful," I sighed. I didn't have it in me to fight in the long haul. Reul did something malicious to me, I just knew it with every fiber of my being. Because I lived for a fight. It was necessary where I grew up. It was all I ever knew how to do._

_"The demerits you're amassing at an alarming rate places the remainder of your senior year in jeopardy as well," she added, watching me intently. Recording every twitch, every breath, and every eye blink. Judging. Assessing._

_Despite being ticked off, I had to suppress a smirk. Regina found my demerits from infractions like excessive tardiness and offensive verbal outbursts sinfully sexy; started issuing ones of her own to me for dipping my fingers into her food then licking them slowly in front of her or for biting her ass through her uniform skirt like a rabid dog. I collected more of her demerits than the official ones._

_But, worst of all, I also smirked because I knew, eventually, I'd forgive Regina for outing me at school._

_Because, like Regina told me once, love made you weak. She is my weakness._

_"The truth is," I said, dragging out the words, stalling for enough time to make a new tactic, desperation, seem as sincere as it was when preceded by a smirk. "Mr. Gold hates me." He did. NARCing on another school official was always effective at getting a rise from Reul. She's an asshat hypocrite._

_A self-satisfied smile rippled briefly across her face, and she quickly submerged it. Must have remembered I was sitting in front of her trying to worm my way out of a class she was delighted to force upon me because I was 'one of those people.'_

_"Mr. Gold is your new adviser, Emma. He's taken fiduciary responsibility for you. You must take your academic accountability seriously if you wish to avoid the institutions our government confines citizens when they refuse to receive specialized and documented instruction for their dark magic. Do you understand?" She smugly folded her hands across her chest._

_So, so very smug._

_My knuckles whitened around the hilt of my wand. I summoned the reserves I had within my light magic to resist showing Reul more of my wild and uncontrollable dark magic - or the underhanded things added to my arsenal through secret lessons with a conniving Regina. So, parts of me were slowly inching back to life! Reul's hold had limits, but was not as weak as I hoped. If she could do this to me, why was she only in the field of education?_

_Still, choking out a schoolmarm isn't exactly the kind of thing the Department of Magic Safety Enforcement forgives when they arrest you._

_"I understand completely, Headmistress Ghorm," I said, fighting back angry salty tears as I ejected myself from her plastic chair and her presence..._

Now, my reason for rehashing that meeting with my school's taskmaster headmistress is two-fold. First, I have to say it again: I'm having a _craptastic_ senior year. I need to vent or I will explode. True, I've had some time to process in the weeks since my surreal and upsetting encounter with Reul, but I am still… unsettled. Still… not completely myself.

Secondly, and more important, I sat in front of Reul Ghorm being bombarding by her uppity platitudes and her weird ass magic powers because of _someone I love._

Regina was the only person in the world I told about my dark magic. _Showed_ her during a confession of True Love. I imagined True Love meant you didn't need to hide the deepest parts of you. That Regina would understand my fears and accept me because _she has dark magic too._

Wrong.

So terribly _wrong._

I was stuck in the last place in the world I wanted to be for two hours and thirty-two minutes straight because it was easier for Regina to betray me than it was for her to admit she felt things for me other than unhinged lust.

My situation with Regina is rending the fabric of my soul.

It hurts like _hell._

My heart is a hole through which hell is bursting forth.

A literal hell hole, if you will.

Do I want a hell hole where my heart used to be?

Has our sun gone supernova?

But that's my reality, and I should've seen it coming.

The signs were _everywhere._

There are always warning signs before a relationship is zipped up in a black bag and carted off to the town morgue. I was too dense to see the signs. Or I chose to rationalize the signs when I spotted them. Or I was too gullible when Regina dismissed the signs as my overreactions.

In my mind, Regina was perfect and therefore perfect for me: Lucent chocolate brown eyes, shrewd and predatory but also wonderfully soulful when set over her warmest smiles...

A soft nose that crinkled under the weight of her judgmental stares...

Rosy cheekbones kissed by voluminous brunette hair that danced in the heated air of her magic...

The vein in her forehead that became prominent and divine when it pulsated under the wildfires of her anger or her desire...

Beautifully shaped lips that parted devilishly to deliver world-crushing insults and world-altering kisses...

The most beautiful little scar traversing her upper lip that roared to life when she felt giddy, mischievous, sexy, angry, scared, free… when she felt anything and everything.

And all the things your eyes didn't see at first glance made me love her most of all: How she laughed with her whole body if she found something I said or did hilarious...

How she held my hand, interlacing our fingers, when she taught me how to conjure a small flame...

How she looked at me so intently some nights I felt my soul reaching out to hug her tightly...

How she molded me out of lumpy clay. Gave me a form. Spoke my name. Made me _me._

I want to be alone with her all the time. Know her completely. Every thought on her mind. For her to know me completely. To find me worthy of her. I'm still one sultry look in her narrowed eyes away from being declared medically and legally brain dead. Which is like _dead_ dead. Her intelligence, warmth and beauty-when she displayed them-stop me _dead_ dead in my tracks. Her magic does too, figuratively and literally.

I always _need_ her.

_My dark magic always needs her._

So much it _terrifies_ me.

My _stupidity_ terrifies me. I can knock a dude flat on his ass by flicking my wrist, but apparently not comprehend that the person I love is the worst possible person to love until I'm all but buried under her family's mausoleum.

So, I'll do a huge favor for you and never require you owe me one in return. I'm that kinda person. I'll point out the red flags that popped up in my love life in an effort to keep you from making the same mistakes that got me a brand-spanking new hell hole for a heart and a lifetime of living under a microscope lens.

I'll map out the steps for you to take so you can get over your (evil) ex.

If you're already heartbroken, then, well, misery loves company. You'll see yourself in my jump-scare filled horror story of a life.

And if you have any questions before I begin, here's my email:

emma_swan at storybrookemagicacademyandinstitute dot edu

And here is Regina's tutoring center email if you want to harass her on my behalf:

evil_regal_tutors at storybrookemagicacademyandinstitute dot edu

Wait!

Forget I said that!

The confusion and bitterness seeping from the hell hole in my chest temporarily erased my common sense.

Email Regina only for help with Rune writing, Elvish verb conjugating, or Potion decanting. She will not enjoy having her life dragged through our muddy campus grounds in my guide. And definitely not you harassing her.

I have _magic_ at my disposal. It's a fair-ish fight if she comes after me in a murderous rage. You? _Instant death by fireball._

Fair warning: This guide will help you get over your (evil) ex but it's also a tale about True Love. However, my point of contention is that, given my experience with it, True Love is a _**FUCKING LIE.**_

At this point in your reading, you might be asking yourself: _Hey, what does an eighteen year old know about anything?_

I'll be frank with you. Not goddamn much given my current situation with Regina and school.

But, what I do know with an unprecedentedly high degree of certainty is UNREQUITED LOVE & HEARTACHE. I can for sure as hell assist you in your struggle with those twin harbingers of doom.

Let's quickly move to Step Two where I show you the colossal fuckups happening right now in my life - nearly all involving Regina - and how to avoid them in yours so you can heal your broken heart and actually enjoy the sound of bluebirds chirping in the trees outside your window at 5:45 am.


	2. Step 2. Recognize Relationship Red Flags And Burn Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma has a setback with Regina, receives more bad news from Reul, has a heart-to-heart with a surprisingly gifted student who she can't stand, and texts with a friend who confronts her with a hard truth. All while showing you Step Two in the recovery process.

****

#### Step 2. Recognize Relationship Red Flags And Burn Them

****

I shouldn't own an iPhone 6.

Let me back up a smidgen.

It's important to show you the agonizing Regina situation I'm dealing with right now.

You know, highlight those red flags.

**RED FLAG: LACK OF COMMUNICATION FROM HER**

So, from the body-indentation trench of my white sheet covered dorm room bed on the third floor of Merlin Manor, lying down on my stomach in a pair of ratty yellow emoji pajamas with my chin perched on my bunched up pillow and my head facing a wall plastered with framed movie posters - looking like a splayed out homicide victim outlined in white chalk - I sent Regina the following text at 7:35 am this morning:

**can i see you now, my queen?**

Even used the pet name she likes me to sing with my tongue from the pulse point of her neck to the whorl of her ear when she's on the cusp of… _when we're alone._

It's exactly six hours later.

No reply.

I haven't seen or heard from Regina in _three days._

Missing from my life. For three days. Not a single word.

We don't have any classes together and I don't socialize with any her friends (Cruella, Maleficent and Ursula). Barely anyone knows we're... _dating_ (?) So no word from the friend fronts.

You can file a missing persons report in 24 hours - technically the moment you notice a person is missing. Press your index finger to your thumb. I'm that close to calling the sheriff's department.

Look, I know Regina read my text. She read it at 7:42 am to be exact. Apple gives you the necessary tools to stalk your girlfriends, your crushes, your frenemies, your whatevers with the message read notification. It's a magical feature.

Unless you're me.

Then it's a tortuous eyesore capable of fueling psychosis.

**RED FLAG: YOU DATE YOUR BED MORE THAN YOU DATE HER**

I've been stewing in my musty sadness in my dorm room for those same three days, in those ratty pajamas I mentioned, because to hell with the school uniform.

Puffy swollen green eyes after countless minutes of hot salty tears streaming down my face, seeping into my pores to carve out a grand canyon of pain in their wake and damaging the remnants of the $65 foundation still masking my sad face (the foundation was a gift from Regina. Tears or no tears, for that price the makeup stays on more than one day. Yeah, I know. Ew. Sadness is the perfect excuse not to cleanse your face.)

I've been barely surviving off grilled cheese sandwiches fried in mayo, trying to bury the agony of my love life under mounds of gooey carbohydrates.

To add insult to injury, my hair is loose and tangled; blonde tendrils snaking around my face and neck as if meaning to suffocate. As if my body is so tired of my mopey self-pity existence it's fashioning a noose for me _made of me_.

No matter what happens to me, I will always harbor the hunch that my life is more complicated than necessary and will never be simplified. Nothing was ever easy for me growing up in East Storybrooke, and that reality is not going to change now that I'm at one of the best schools for magic.

Now that I am in love.

Not when I am _what I am_.

Not when I'm depressed in addition to being what I am.

Easy can never be trusted. If I'm not suffering, then nothing I'm experiencing is real.

Even so, Regina deliberately ignoring me couldn't be happening at a more inopportune time.

Ugh, just read the unbelievable mess for yourself:

**RED FLAG: YOU NEGLECT IMPORTANT ASPECTS OF YOUR LIFE BECAUSE OF HER**

_Dear Miss Emma Swan:_

_Our records indicate that your class attendance rate is in violation of school policies as outlined in the Storybrooke Magic Academy and Institute Student Handbook, section 41-A: Mandatory Attendance and Unexcused Absences. Please review the aforementioned policy to ensure proper understanding of the policies all students must comply with or risk incurring disciplinary actions up to and including expulsion. As per your sponsorship contract, your academic sponsorship is contingent upon satisfactory class attendance and at least a 3.2 grade point average._

_Storybrooke Magic Academy and Institute hereby places you on academic probation for: Excessive Absenteeism From Assigned Classes. You also have accrued 2 demerits for late submission of schoolwork. If you fail to report to your classes 1 more time within the next three months and have not received prior permission for an excused absence from a teacher or health care provider, you will become subject to disciplinary action up to and including expulsion._

_To assist you with your efforts to rectify your probationary status, you have been assigned a peer monitor. Your peer monitor will assist you with the following actions and more as specified by her supervisor: normalizing class attendance in accordance with Student Life Guidelines and Policies, providing transportation to off-campus employment due to your Non-Teleporter status with the Student Transportation Services, and helping with independent study material preparation._

_You will meet with your peer monitor once per day for an amount of time no less than 30 minutes and not exceeding 1 hour within the capacity of student-to-peer monitor relations. Meetings shall be documented, verified and signed off by your peer monitor's supervisor. You will meet with your peer monitor until official notice from the Headmistress' office terminates the mentorship. If you fail to report to peer monitor meetings, you will become subject to disciplinary action up to and including expulsion._

_If you have any questions, please contact the Dean of Student Life Offices at (555) 555-1686 or email rghorm at storybrookemagicacademyandinstitute dot edu._

_Academic Probation Addendum:_

_Miss Swan, I expect you to become an accomplished and responsible mage this semester. I had hoped our last meeting would have conveyed to you the importance of your compliance with school policies and student behavioral expectations in light of your unique situation. As evident by your most recent absences and demerits accumulation, we will need to schedule an additional in-person meeting this week._

_This is my personal phone line, do not share it with anyone, any entity, or any supernatural presence: (555) 555-6262. Please call at your earliest convenience to schedule a meeting with me. Please take advantage of my assistance. If I do not hear from you by this Friday, I will issue another demerit and send notice of a meeting time of my choosing._

_Sincerely,_

_Reul Ghorm_

_Headmistress_

_Storybrooke Magic Academy and Institute_

Get off any probation lists you're on, academic or not, as soon as you can. I like to play with fire. I'm in love with a girl whose literal go to response for everything that irks her is to shoot a fireball at it.

You must be level headed.

Do not ruin your academic life for... _love_.

Well, it's Friday.

It should come to no one's surprise that I haven't yet contacted She Of The Weird Ass Pixie Powers. And I won't.

Ugh, before I could root around in my own detritus for another six hours waiting for Regina's reply like a distressed puppy dog left home alone, someone knocked on my dorm room door.

By the knock, I'll tell you right off the bat - so you're not swept up in a whirlwind of suspense - it's not Regina.

Regina doesn't knock on my dorm door. She texts me to tell me she's near and I dart down my dorm's stairs two at a time, sprint past the main quad, and shotgun down winding streets to meet her in a secluded barely lit wooded path for sex in my car. It's the behavior of a murder maybe?

The knocking became incessant; the violence of it making me chew the inner corners of my mouth to prevent myself from force-pushing whoever was behind the door down a flight of stairs.

I hopped from my bed and spun my door open with such annoyed force, I almost slammed the door against a wall, rattling the full-length wooden framed mirror attached to the back of it. Not that I cared if the mirror fell and shattered into a thousand shards.

One, bad luck is the only luck I have, nothing new there.

Two, the mirror was a 'just because' gift from Regina that I knew was a 'really because' gift when she handed it to me because she really felt guilty about being an emotional invalid.

Or, as she phrased it: _"So every morning you can see all the beauty I see in you, Swan."_

Her explanation soothed my soul. Better tasting than all the bear claws, onions rings and grilled cheeses in the world. Regina has a mastery over words - and over lies. A honeyed serpent's tongue. Come to think of it - it's probably her strongest magic. She probably meant the sentiment. In the beginning.

What does she see in me now?

_A gullible freak?_

**RED FLAG: OTHERS HAVE SCHEDULED AN INTERVENTION FOR YOU BECAUSE OF HER**

At least Tinker Bell was standing before me smiling, however sheepishly, pausing in the doorway. Waiting for permission to enter while scanning my room.

People say seeing a smile can be contagious. The way a tiny infant sees you smile at it and moments later it smiles at you. I'm not a tiny infant. I knitted my eyebrows at Tinker Bell (and maybe even scowled at her a little.)

In addition to rocking a smile, Tinker Bell was dressed to military precision in our school uniform, which was clearly modeled after some Japanese business man's wet dreams: form-fitting white blouse, knee-high white socks, pleated red skirt, skirt matching tie, and black shoes (Tinker Bell's are Vans, mine are tattered Converses, and Regina's are leather cap-toed Jimmy Choo flats - she's a shoe snob with beautiful, soft feet.)

Tinker Bell's blonde hair was coiffed in an elaborate ponytail-and-braids combo that probably required five hours to arrange. A green ribbon as a ponytail holder granted her the effect of being a walking aluminum Christmas tree. All shiny and artificial.

And I chose to view the peer monitor slash babysitter standing before me in the smiling flesh as being the equivalent of having a leaky butt hole covering your forehead. Shit constantly streaming into your eyes.

She was the last person I wanted to see. Ever. Period.

I was still sad. Still upset. Still missing Regina.

To boot, Tinker Bell and I are polar opposites.

Me: Dark and Sullen like a mossy bog.

Her: Bright and Cheery like a billion cartoon suns.

Me: A Senior who could care less about anything.

Her: A Junior who frets over every little detail.

When you annoyingly stress over the smallest things, the minutiae of life, regular people call it being anal retentive. Around here students say you've _'got that Tink going on hardcore.'_

Tinker Bell flashed an expectant look, rocking on the balls of her shoes, clutching an iPad in one hand. I sighed and motioned for her to venture into my room. She inched forward, not speaking in her usual mile-a-minute banter, no doubt silenced for a moment by the stale sad-sack stench permeating my room, but her eyes continued to survey the scene.

Food wrappers and napkins thrown anywhere. Bed sheets crumbled on the floor. Books tossed about without rhyme or reason. Dirty clothes forming unnatural mountain ranges. Stale air choking life from the room. My unstable magic - light and dark - crashing about the room in tumultuous waves, enveloping the both of us in dangerous tides that threatened to pull us further away from the shores of reality.

There was something vaguely unnatural about the way she moved through all the chaos. No, _glided_ to my desk where she deposited her iPad and lorded over my desk chair without sitting down. Just stared at me with air of superiority but also with an assessing caution, as she fanned her fingers out at her sides, wiggled them in the air in what seemed like random movements to the untrained eye but were coordinated code.

Although I could not make out the specific language her fingers spoke to the air, I recognized what she was doing. I saw it often as a child. As a teen. It was done by the nuns at my orphanage. In Lily's and my room.

She was casting a protection ward. A powerful one.

I felt the restless dark energy within me rallying and clamoring to shoot pangs of heat through the nerves of my body and through the synapses of my brain. It was a flight or fight survival response that leaned heavily on the fight side of things. I didn't have my wand in my hand, couldn't summon it to me with the ward forming, so I eyed my fingernails.

Imagined digging the shape of an hourglass on the back of my palm. Not a rune or calligraphy, but a perfect encapsulation of my feelings at the moment.

The feeling of not being in control of my own time and space. They didn't belong to me fully. The sensation pissed me off immensely.

Tinker Bell read the worry, fear, and confusion mapping out the contours of my face. Shook her head, and walked toward me. Scooped up my hands into hers. Her hands warm and secure. Her magic the softest downy feather pillow, I wanted to snuggle with it. I could have flinched away.

And yet, I didn't.

I felt a hotness build within me to a fevered pitch, settle at the point where our flesh met, and then disperse through my fingertips into hers and out into the air where it evaporated.

I looked at my legs that were now clad in clean pajamas and felt the rest of me change: Sad body stench gone and replaced with the comforting and calming aroma of wild honeysuckle with a tinge of lavender. My hair detangled and brushed into a loose ponytail. My body and dorm room clean, fresh, renewed.

I didn't have the heart to be completely angry about the presumptuous, bold and intrusive use of her magic to 'lift me up' because it was honestly needed and I had little confidence at this point that I was ever going to motivate myself to do it. I still couldn't move. Didn't want to. There was music all around me. Inviting violin notes, strumming my heart to beat normally.

My magic responded to her. _Wanted_ to be with her. It worried me.

 _Scared_ me.

But, it wasn't until I saw Tinker Bell flash a confident and knowing smile, one that settled with a plastic sheen across her face, that I recognized why her demeanor and actions were foreign and familiar at the same time.

 _She was like Reul Ghorm_.

But different.

Tinker Bell's true abilities and energy signature were carefully hidden all this time - like I had done with my dark magic - which meant she knew I was a potential Dark One (what happened to confidential student information?) Knew that my hostility could have made any conversation the forerunner to a force-push or choke and took the necessary precautions.

Except, she had done it with a gentleness that seemed like understanding.

 _Seemed_ because nothing worked out for the best when it came to me.

I wasn't about to thank her for any of it. But, I didn't need to. She knew. I hadn't attacked her, yet.

Regina was always so special to me because she had been the only person in all my life who could reach me when the darkness tugged at my core, threatening to overpower me. Because I wanted her to save me. I wanted her to want me. Need me. Understand me.

Then there was Reul to an extent. And now Tinker Bell in a different way.

Things were not making sense. _How am I so easily managed?_

Tinker Bell released my hands and shrugged in an annoyingly cute nonchalant manner.

Tinker Bell: "Sorry if I worried you, Emma."

Me: "Uh-huh."

Some of my irritation had faded, but not enough. I desperately wanted to scratch my arms. Every inch of my arms itched and burned. But I didn't want Tinker Bell to touch me again. This may sound silly, but it felt like betraying Regina. Like the weakness of infidelity. Only, it didn't make me feel dirty like Reul had eight weeks ago.

Tinker Bell has an inviting face. Naturally lights up when she speaks. Makes her barely tolerable in extremely small increments. We're talking bordering on 'never' because it's Tinker Bell and she always has that Tink going on hardcore and now she had whatever it was going on with her magic, which made her another suspect in the lineup of my mind filled up with people out to ruin me.

Tinker Bell: "Are you still having problems controlling your darkness after the Weakening with my aunt?"

Gawd, she's Reul's _niece_. Told you nothing good happens to me.

Tinker Bell was blunt and noisy to the point of inciting long eye rolls (the trait must run in her family). I sighed, and slowly brought my hands to my face, steepled them at the bridge of my nose where I squeezed from both sides to quell the tension mounting there.

At least there was no need to guess why she was here bothering me. She was definitely the peer monitor assigned to me. One who could drain off my edge.

One whose chipper face was incongruous with my sullen mood and who stirred up unpleasant truths.

_Note to self: Research everything regarding the magic of a 'Weakening.'_

I knew why she was in my dorm room. Didn't mean I wouldn't fuck with her about it.

Me: "Did you actually need something or do you just like accosting people in their dorm rooms?"

I almost cringed over how much my own voice sounded like Regina yelling from Mt. High. I rarely saw Tinker Bell around campus. She processed the message a long time ago from my hostile body language and rude grunts that I didn't want to see her around campus. But sounding like a dick to Tinker Bell made me float back to thoughts of Regina because she's curt to Tinker Bell too.

I couldn't stop thinking about how devastatingly beautiful Regina was. How devastatingly painful loving her was. I missed her voice.

In addition to my text, I've called Regina more than nine times in the last two hours. Each and every time the call went straight to voicemail. I hadn't bothered to leave her any messages. I don't want her to actually _hear_ my desperation even though my desperation is easier to see than a McDonald's logo sign from a highway overpass.

I'm certain the last two or three times I called were just to hear her velvety voice in the voicemail. It's so strange and so sad that I've been doing it. Truly a stupid move on my part. I couldn't even tell you the exact wording of her greeting, just the general feel. It's probably the cheeriest voice Regina can muster without being blatantly duplicitous, but it's better than not hearing Regina's voice.

Her voice is a soothing lullaby.

A sensual siren song.

Lulling me to sleep or to my death...either way, my head and heart are in her hands.

A sane person, at this point, would stop calling and texting. That's what you're going to want to do. Please do the stopping thing.

Naturally, the logical part of my brain, the part buried deep within my psyche and misfiring every chance it was granted to take a shot at running things, told me I should stop calling and texting Regina. But I have lost all semblance of personal agency.

You must do better.

Or you'll end up with a Tinker Bell in your face.

Tinker Bell: "It looks like you were crying."

Me: "Bye, Tinker Bell."

Before I could shove her out my room, Tinker Bell flashed a desperate set of puppy dog eyes. Imploring.

_Did she have no choice in the matter like me?_

_Why am I so easily cowed?_

Tinker Bell: "I didn't mean to pry about what happened in my aunt's office. But it's necessary to ask: Did you read her letter? About me being your peer monitor?

Me: "You mean my ankle monitor."

Tinker Bell sensed I was right back on that cliff's edge with my anger, and groped for a subject change.

Tinker Bell: "You don't have to talk about such private things, really. I'm sorry. It was not my place to ask about the Weakening. I hope you can see past that initial failing of mine. I really do want to help you, Emma. I'm not a cop with the Department of Magic Safety Enforcement or Reul's shill or your enemy. I like helping other students because the magic that we deal with in our everyday lives is amazing but also overwhelming and not without consequence."

I wanted to believe her. I really did. I didn't.

But, I am not in a position to fight her. While she didn't do anything close to what her aunt did with that Weakening, she did cull my need to lash out. I wasn't openly hostile but still very keen on guarding myself as always.

Me: "So, how does this work? You pop up whenever you want, I call you, or what?"

Tinker Bell: "You decide as long as it's once a day for at least thirty minutes."

Me: "In that case, right now counts for today. No offense, but I want this over and done."

A genuine smile crested her lips as Tinker Bell finally sat in my desk chair, crossed her legs at the knee, and cupped her knee in her hands.

I opted to plunk down on my bed. Next to my phone. Rolled my knees to my chest. Stared at her with dead eyes. It unnerved her for a moment. She composed herself and continued to offer her services.

Tinker Bell: "Okay. Why don't I start by taking a look at your class schedule. See if we can't figure out a way to make it work were you more readily attend classes. Maybe it's a logistics problem?"

It's not. But Tinker Bell's no psychiatrist. I don't rock therapy. We aren't friends. I'm not going to tell her about Regina.

And there are two very specific reasons to hate my revised schedule: Mr. Gold and Zelena Mills.

Gold because he's a dick and I have two sessions with him on A days.

Zelena because she's Regina's twenty-three year old crabby sister who assigns three times the normal going rate in homework than any other teacher on campus. She doesn't know I sex up her younger sister Regina until Regina's stupid and breathless and sweaty and _dead_ dead, but Zelena would kill me if she discovered the truth. I'm on her shit list. I usually snore in the back row of her class. On several occasions I have flipped her the bird.

I showed Tinker Bell the goods:

_Student Schedule for EMMA SWAN_

_Comments: This is a copy of your revised school schedule effective immediately. Please be aware that hours, teachers, locations, and classrooms are subject to change. Any recent changes in class scheduling are highlighted in bold._

_Term: SEMESTER 1_

_01 United States Perspectives in Shapeshifter Studies, PROF: Graham Humbert, RM: S1-200_

_02 Year 12 Runes: Agrabahian and Elvish Runes, PROF: The Apprentice, RM: P-82_

_**03 Advanced Principles of Dark Magic & Arcana, PROF: Mr. Gold, RM: B1-235**_

_04 Potions IV: Light & Dark Magic Augmentation, PROF: Zelena Mills, RM: A2-230_

_05 Investigative Magic: From Locator Spells to Portal Spells, PROF: Merlin, RM: P-80_

_06 Master Wand Construction & Repair: Artisan Wand Design, PROF: Geppetto, W-01_

_**07 Topics in Magical Law: Dark Magic Domestic Policy, PROF: Nimue, RM: B1- 106**_

_**08 Senior Seminar Independent Study Lab, PROF: Mr. Gold, RM: TBD**_

Tinker Bell coughed and then lifted her gaze to meet mine.

Tinker Bell: "You have really impressive classes. Especially the wand course. Neat."

Her face sported a megawatt smile. As if we had been the best of friends for years chowing down on froyo.

A part of me was flattered she implied that I wasn't an idiot. I'm failing at school because I'm lazy - albeit also heartbroken - not because I'm dumb. Which, I know, sounds dumb. But, at the moment, I had a huge chip on my shoulder and needed answers.

Regina was ignoring me, but Tinker Bell was right here in front of me. Claiming she wanted to help. I wanted to push Tinker Bell's boundaries. Test the limits of her sincerity. There is always a limit. Nothing is ever free or done surrendering all of one's self without wanting something in return. At least, not in my vast experience as someone for whom nothing comes without a price tag attached.

Me: "Can I ask you something personal?"

She lifted herself from my chair and quickly sat next to me on my bed. The mattress springs provided a springy bounce at the suddenness of her appearance. She bobbed up and down as if jumping on a trampoline. It was the weirdest reaction to a question ever because in no way had I given her any indication that I wanted her that close to me again. Still, she knew I wouldn't protest.

_Am I that desperate for closeness it can be seen or sensed from a mile away?_

Tinker Bell: "Sure. Always, Emma."

_Uh-huh._

Me: "How do you feel about me being, you know?"

Tinker Bell: "A dark magic wielder?"

Me: "Yeah."

Tinker Bell: "I answered that question when you first allowed me into your room and almost sparked up."

I couldn't help but grin. She was slowly becoming more than what I expected. Nudging me to revise my judgment of her. Calculated tactic on her part or not, my defensive flag wasn't at full mast.

Me: "Sparked up?"

Tinker Bell: "Let your power go nuclear. It doesn't scare me, Emma. I'm not here to judge you. There are protection wards all over the school. You know I placed one on your room, and it was more to help you than me. I can show how to cast ones of your own sometime, if you want. I even know a few wards my aunt does not."

Now, that last bit _really_ piqued my interest.

I tossed her an arched eyebrow. One that would have done a skeptical but not unimpressed Regina proud: _Are you shitting me right now girl?_

To her credit, Tinker Bell simply smiled. A smile that was increasingly becoming something I wanted to see more of, honestly. Only because I hadn't made anyone smile in three days. Her smile wasn't contagious... yet. Just, um, needed.

Me: "How do the two of you know the anti-dark voodoo stuff? I didn't see any courses offered on how to talk potential Dark Ones down from the ledge."

Tinker Bell: "I'm sure you would concur that many important life lessons and skills aren't learned in a classroom. Your dark magic, just like your light magic, is innate within you, so is my... ability to steer you away from the dark. To help you wrap it up safely in your light. It's a genetic deposition and a carefully honed nascent skill."

Me: "Kept under wraps."

Tinker Bell: "Shared on a need to know basis."

Me: "Is it like with shapeshifters and people like me? You know, monitored?"

Her comforting deposition turned wry and fidgety. She straightened non-existing creases in her perfect uniform shirt. My eyes inadvertently outlined the sides of her breasts as her fingers smoothed over them, and I quickly shot my gaze toward my computer monitor perched on my desk across from us.

It's awkward to sit side-by-side and so close to someone you aren't trying to bed when you're on your own bed. For me at least. I felt pervy just thinking about her in that capacity. It was the furthest thing from my own desires and yet a product of how... people who were not Lily had treated me my entire life.

Tinker Bell: "In order for this peer mentorship to work optimally we should have an understanding. I'm not like you or a shifter. I can only use my power for good. I don't have a choice in that regard, and I'm ecstatic about that aspect of it."

Me: "But not happy about the part where you have to help people even when you don't want to."

Tinker Bell: "Like I said before, I genuinely want to help people. It's my life's calling. But, yes, it's my _life's calling_ , so..."

Trapped like me, in a way. And, because I understood having your back against a wall, even one as pleasant as being able to do good in the world, I didn't want to press her any further about how she felt about her predicament. The universe knows I hated it when people pressed me for private details I did not want to divulge.

Me: "So, any pointers to offer on dealing with Mr. Gold? I mean, I've earned most of my recent demerits for skipping his class."

Tinker Bell: "Don't skip his class or his seminar ever again."

Me: "Right. Avoid expulsion. Got the memo."

Tinker Bell: "You transferred to SMAI over the summer and aren't one of his tight-lipped regular students, so I guess you don't know about him."

Me: "I've been to a few of his classes. I know he's an asshole."

She chuckled, but it was a nervous one. One made when you aren't exactly sure how to broach a difficult or painful subject with someone - especially if you aren't able to forecast their reaction - but must do so nonetheless.

In a lightening fast motion, her face became eerily serious. Almost if she had been two different people sitting on my bed at the same time. She held up an erect index finger as if to enumerate her point. A finger that meant 'stop' and 'wait a moment' and 'shut the hell up.'

Tinker Bell: "He's much more than that, Emma. He _is_ dark magic. A bonafide Dark One. A strong one. In fact, the _strongest_ my family has ever encountered."

I leaned forward and folded over my waist. Wanted to wrap myself into a cocoon. Sensory overload. Just so much information compacted in that reveal. My brain melted. I have never known a true Dark One. Didn't know until this moment how much I wanted to know one. And it's Mr. Gold.

Tinker Bell, definitely the opposite of shy at this point and like a caring mother trying to soothe a stomach ache - because one was definitely threatening to stir within me - rubbed my back until her movements registered in my brain and finally feathered out to the rest of my body. I jerked upright and scooted a few inches away from her. Looked her square in her eyes.

Her look, swirling in eyes as green like mine but purer, embodied all the true caring affection existing in the world. They actually twinkled the little devils.

It centered me.

It unraveled me.

I quickly looked away. No one has looked at me with such warmth.

Except Regina. But...

When Regina did it, it was immediately followed by lascivious underpinnings. Well, one time something else coated her eyes for an infinitesimal moment before the lust, but she shoved it so deep down inside herself I have never seen it again and didn't have the chance to identify it when I saw it. It was like she was ashamed of it.

My breaths had morphed into an asthmatic grappling for air and I tried to steady them. I summoned the nerve to glance at Tinker Bell again. No words were exchanged but I knew she was saying _"It's okay. I'm here. Breathe."_ The voice in my head was hers. I listened to it. Calmed my breathing. My chest rising and falling with grace.

It would require ten lifetimes to wrap my head around her revelation. A definite game changer. A real full-on Dark One. Right under my nose! Had I been so blinded by distaste and boredom and anger and pain that I couldn't sense someone like me - stronger than me - around me? Yes.

It reflected poorly on my ability to navigate this school and the real world. I always prided myself on being able to size up a situation when it came to survival. The streets of East Storybrooke were the ultimate hard knock life teacher. So I thought.

I could hear Reul's sanctimonious voice in my head telling me _'this is the part where you start giving a fuck.'_ Because it was. Deadly effective pixie powers and a real bonafide Dark One in the wild, well, in my school. _What the hell is this school?_

Before I could even begin to wrap my head over the true depth of what Tinker Bell stated, my phone chimed.

Me: "Do you mind if I-?"

Tinker Bell: "I can map out some ideas for you and Mr. Gold's class."

Bless her heart she didn't push for my undivided attention. Didn't ask me what I was thinking or feeling. Didn't lecture me. Didn't ask me to ignore my call in favor of peer tutoring and war planning.

My heart had stopped beating, and a choking sensation gripped my body. My eyes wanted to see nothing else in this world, in this lifetime, than Regina's name in my message notifications bar.

Tempting fate, I shot a furtive glance at my lit lock-screen where a picture of Regina, blowing a kiss of all things to do, taunted me with its perfectness.

Its promise.

I missed the feel of her soft, soft lips against my forehead. Yes, I missed her chaste kisses most of all. The ones that told me she thought I was delicate, sweet, and hers. Worthy of her time. Her care. Her love.

All the fury and pain that had coursed through my veins over the past three days, pumping to my major organs instead of blood, making my stomach cramp, my bladder betray my desire to remain in bed, my throat contract from dryness, my heart sink into that hell hole over and over again disintegrated. Replaced by oxygenated blood. My nerves had cooled under Tinker Bell's touch and my mounting hope - my treacherous hope - that Regina had forgiven me for whatever slight I committed against her the last time we were together (that I can't for the life of me place.)

But the text wasn't from Regina.

**RED FLAG: YOUR BEST AND MOST TRUSTED FRIEND TELLS YOU TO DUMP HER**

The hell hole in my heart rented open, but the pain was dulled a bit by who had actually texted me: Lily.

**Lily: Sup bitch!**

This is a good time as any to tell you that Lily and I are pretty blunt with each other. Blame our childhood environments. Or our new adult hormones. Probably a combination of both.

I don't see Lily often; she's in-and-out of trouble more than there are stars in the sky. She usually calls me out of the blue from East Storybrooke's juvey center, shifter ward. Lately she seems to be on the up-and-up because her texts have been from her own phone.

She's a dragon shapeshifter, but has never shifted in front of me. I don't know why she hasn't shifted in my presence because there were a lot of designated "shifter safe spots" in the bad part of Storybrooke where we lived, usually near liquor and weapons shops (safe = huge misnomer.) I can't think of Lily in any other way than her being someone I love unconditionally. But, something in her, I think, wouldn't vibe with my dark magic. Shifters are naturally distrustful of it. In the ancient past dark magic was used to control them, and in the 60s to subdue them during civil rights riots.

**Me: It's like fuck-all-to-two o'clock in the aft. Where are you?**

**Lily: Bouncing on your dad's balls.**

I chuckle and swing my legs back and forth over the edge of my bed. Even though I wished it was Regina texting me, Lily instantly put me at ease. Made me feel like a kid again. Always safe with her even when surrounded by the worst circumstances.

Tinker Bell didn't lift her eyes from her iPad, but from the corners of my eyes I saw a smile grace her face. She's ever the competent worker bee, and I appreciated how she allowed me to do my own thing. If they aren't paying her for her thirty minutes with me, then they should. She's earned recompense and then some.

I felt she deserved an explanation.

Me: "It's my best friend from ESH."

Tinker Bell: "No worries, Emma. Really."

**Me: Tell him I said thanks for giving me up for adoption the day I was born before ramming my best friend eighteen years later. Okay, so be serious, are you ever coming to visit me? Shit is hitting the fan for me.**

**Lily: Dude, I didn't tell you? I'm on some no-admittance list there or something. Even if I could visit, I don't have the coins for the bus. Last time I checked, you have a C-A-R. Pick me up. Let's wreck shit up.**

**Me: Look, all you had to say was no.**

**Lily: Let's hit The Jolly Roger tonight. Friday so you know Killian will hook up drinks. I'll listen to you bitch harp about how good you have it at that snotty school of yours.**

The Jolly Roger bar is owned and operated by our friend Killian's dad. Which is amazing for two reasons:

I get to see Killian. After Lily and me, Killian's the coolest kid from East Storybrooke. He has this total bad boy glam image: a lot of tight black leather, spiked jewelry, kick-ass boots, actual freaking sword and sheath combo, eyeliner - Regina called him _'captain guyliner'_ without ever meeting the guy simply because I mentioned liking the emo pirate look on him.

His dad's staff serves underage troubled youths alcohol so long as we don't get visibly drunk. And we pay extra for our illegal drinks. He'll probably make enough money to send Killian to college on the underage crowd alone. That is, if Killian gives up his dream of joining the navy.

It's so worth it to chill at the JR. But, I was bummed about Regina. Had to deal with being monitored at school, which I was certain would somehow extend to any off campus stuff I did across town - the bad part of town. I didn't feel like drinking. Wallowing in my pain, yes, but not getting drunk. Let's just say beer and dark magic fit together like oil and water.

**Me: Let me think about it.**

**Lily: Her again?**

**Me: What?**

**Lily: You have two eyes. They both work. Thus, you read my text.**

**Me: Yes... we're... you know.**

**Lily: I do. And you know that you have to end that shit. You're always morose as fuck when I speak to you. It's always because of her. I'm all for a great hit and run in the sack, but you're the only one getting ran over. I'm worried about you.**

**Me: Don't be. I've got this.**

**Lily: You mean she's got you under her thumb because you love her.**

No immediate answer from my end. It hurts to be known that well by someone who isn't the person you want to know you that well.

**Me: I'm fine.**

**Lily: She's stringing you along. You gotta cut the chord before you get in too deep and get massively hurt.**

Too late. I've been 'in too deep' and, sadly, 'massively hurt' for a while. I hung my head low into the crook of my neck, exposing each muscle in the back of my neck slowly, and not without dark tension rolling over each one.

Almost, as if tethered to my feelings and on some sort of queue, Tinker Bell reached over and squeezed my hand in a show of strength and solidarity. Our fingers weren't interlaced. It was the hand holding where a person's entire hand covers your fingers perpendicularly.

Good thing I'm quick at texting with one thumb. No magic required.

**Me: I gotta go. I'm setting up some work with my tutor.**

Lily did not need to know I was being monitored. I didn't want her to worry even more about me. She's got enough to stress over.

**Lily: Is she cute?**

**Me: She's here to work with me not sleep with me.**

**Lily: Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.**

**Me: Thanks mom.**

**Lily: Ah, you're welcome, sweetie.**

**Me: Hang with you soon. Promise.**

**Lily: If you need me, you CALL me. You need to hear my voice when you're down and out and I need to hear yours, okay?**

**Me: K.**

Tinker Belle cleared her throat and released my hand.

Closed the gap between us.

Offered a small smile when my eyes met hers.

I had two people who cared about me. For their own reasons. Both genuine. Love and concern.

But, neither of them were Regina. I wanted her to care. Any reason was acceptable.

The tiny smile I shined at Tinker Bell was not disingenuous. Just more of a mask. I owed Tinker Bell something in return for her kindness other than my sorrow.

After several moments stuck in our pose, she finally spoke in a firm but friendly tone.

Tinker Bell: "I have an idea about how to handle Mr. Gold. Want to hear it?"

If it meant she would stay with me a bit longer, I would have listened to her recite the entire US Constitution. I didn't want to be alone. Slip back into my funk. I liked the smell of honeysuckle and lavender. Not as much as apples and cinnamon. But, Regina was not near. And Tinker Bell was.

Not one second after Tinker Bell promised to provide an answer to one of my multitudinous problems involving school, and, you know, the future of my dark soul, I received another text.

We'll trudge along to Step Three.

Because this time the text _was_ from Regina.


End file.
